


A Pied Piper Halloween

by EatingFeathers



Series: Tales of the Pied Piper [3]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/M, Smut, Tagging is for people who know how to tag, halloween party
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21804481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatingFeathers/pseuds/EatingFeathers
Summary: Butters is throwing a Halloween party, and Reader needs to come up with a Star Wars costume to wear. Good thing her first rule is 'always be prepared'.Actually, her first rule is 'if his name is Thomas Raith, fuck regularly.' Rule number two is 'always be prepared'.
Relationships: Thomas Raith/OFC, Thomas Raith/Original Female Character, Thomas Raith/Reader
Series: Tales of the Pied Piper [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550857
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm aware that it's December, and this fic is technically a month and a half late. Have fun with it anyway. I just finished reading Skin Game and this is my way of healing from the fact that Thomas was not present in it.

I leaned back in my chair, inspecting my ceiling as though it held the answers to the questions on my mind, to the questions of the universe. Was there a God? Was it safe to leave the house after dark? Should I put more money into the stock market, or SELL, SELL, SELL? 

Most importantly, should I accept Harry and Thomas’s invitation to the Halloween party next week?

My gut said it would be fine; but then, my gut also said that Mikey could be trusted, and look how that turned out. 

I pushed away thoughts of the small-time gangster who controlled my neighborhood. They were radically less important than the question that had just been posed to me by my b--boytoy. “Sure, why not. What could go wr--”

He slapped a hand over my mouth with unnatural speed. “Never say those words in that order, darling. Especially not around Harry.” 

Harry laughed at Thomas. “He’s got a point. I have a habit of taking a bad situation and making it worse before I solve it at great personal cost to either myself or my friends. There are things you just don’t say around a wizard.” Harry shifted uncomfortably in my armchair, a seat that had been built for someone about half his size. Thomas and I were taking up the whole of my small couch, leaving only the tiny chair for Harry. I was sure Thomas was getting some amount of glee from watching his brother’s discomfort.

“Good to know you’re interested; Butters is throwing a themed celebration, so you’ll definitely have to pick the right costume for it,” Harry added.

“What’s the theme?” I asked, rubbing Thomas’s arm where it rested on my stomach. I was leaning back against him, and for a man as lean as he was, he was very comfortable.

“Star Wars.”   
  


\-------------

Somehow, Harry’s apartment was even smaller than mine. Still, there were seven or eight people squeezed in there, planning for the event. Butters, who was apparently some kind of medical...something, Harry kind of muttered his title; Karrin Murphy, who was (as near as I could tell) Harry’s not-girlfriend; a teenager that Harry introduced as his wizardly apprentice, Molly; Harry’s bear-dog, Mouse, who took up the space of two men; Will, who’d received no further introduction, but was not the same Will who’d driven the getaway car the day I’d met Thomas; and myself and Thomas sat on the various and sundry surfaces available to us. 

I liked them all, although this Will made the hair on the back of my neck stand up for some reason. Something in his eyes was predatory, although I didn’t doubt for a minute that he was on Harry’s side--whatever that meant.

“Well,” Butters said, “obviously, I’m going to be a Jedi, but that doesn’t mean someone else can’t also be. There’s more than one of them, as long as we’re ignoring Episode 3.” There was a general assent to this notion. “I think I’ve even still got a lightsaber I got for Christmas a few years back.”

Will poked Mouse, who was sitting on Harry’s feet, with a toe. The dog made a grumpy noise at him. “We’ve got a Chewbacca already, he just needs a bandolier.”

Harry grinned. “I thought you’d go as Chewbacca; you’re nearly twice his size.”

Will barked a laugh at him. “Sure, but I can’t drink like that, and no party’s worth going to if you can’t drink.” I was missing the joke, but nobody seemed to feel like explaining. 

Harry hit Will’s arm companionably. “Well, if he’s Chewbacca, that makes me Han Solo.”

Karrin kicked his shoe. “Hell no, Harry. I’m a way better shot. I’m going as Han Solo.”

Thomas smiled like he’d been given a gift. “If she’s Han Solo, then I know who Leia ought to be.”

Harry glared at him. “Absolutely not. I’m not about to dress up in a white dress with cinnamon buns on the sides of my head. I don’t have the hips to wear a dress like that.”

Thomas shrugged. “What about you, darling?” he asked me. “What were you thinking?”

“A Twi'lek. I’ve always thought they were sexy, and I actually went to a Star Wars convention as one when I was a teenager. I was scrawnier then, the headdress probably doesn’t fit anymore. I might still have it, though.” 

There was a twinkle in Thomas’s eye as he looked down at me. “I like that idea. I like that idea a lot. Got any pictures?” He leered at me, the effect almost ruined by the angle--but not quite. 

I shivered in his lap--which he also liked a lot--then looked up at him. “Probably not...I but I could give you a private showing, if you want.” I bit my bottom lip as I peered through my eyelashes at him coyly. 

He moved a hand down to my thighs, keeping the motion just appropriate enough that Harry couldn’t complain about him being obscene. “I’d like that very much, darling.” 

Karrin cleared her throat. “Who are you going as, Thomas?” she asked. “Got any ideas?”

“A couple,” he said without breaking his eye contact with me. “Either Boba Fett or Qui-Gon Jinn. I’ve got the hair for it, and the air of wisdom.” He sniffed, throwing a very odd look at Harry that might have been disdain.

I realized, very belatedly, it was in response to the face Harry had made at my offer of a private showing. Karrin looked over at Harry, then made the same face Thomas had. 

Harry shook himself. “Sorry, Karrin. Red-blooded male, and all that. You know how Twi'leks are.”

“I know how you are, and that’s more than enough,” she said with a smirk.

Will just laughed at them. “You guys are definitely a power couple, alright. Murphy’s the quick shot with a heart of gold, and Harry’s the snarky, willful princess with a control problem."

"Hey! I do not have a control problem!" Harry objected.

We all laughed at that, and Harry leaned back in his seat with a manly approximation of a pout.

Molly spoke for the first time since the question was raised. "I think Will should go as Luke, and I want to go as Episode 2 Padme. Her white outfit was definitely something I could pull off." 

Thomas whispered in my ear something entirely inappropriate about pulling off my costume, and I coughed awkwardly. Everyone looked at me, and I regained my composure just in time to realize that Thomas's hidden arm was playing with the waistband of my underwear. 

"Harry," he said ponderously, "I have an idea."

"No. Whatever it is, no."

Four voices of various tones replied immediately, "Whatever it is, yes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raiths are not known for their patience. They are, however, known for other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally nothing but smut. :)

I unlocked the door of my apartment with a laugh, Thomas leaning on me laughing even harder. "I still can't believe you got him to agree to that. If he actually does it…" I dissolved into giggles as the door opened.

"I told you, I dared him. I made it worth his while. He'll show." Thomas closed the door behind him, his eyes glinting with silver as he picked me up. "Now, you said something about a private showing of your old costume?" He carried me into my bedroom at my instruction. 

"Now, set me down, you Hercules wannabe, so I can find it. If I even still have it--strappy leather tends not to stay together in my line of work." 

He did, sitting on the bed. His eyes began to shine with anticipation and Hunger, and a little bit of good, old-fashioned lust. I started digging in my closet, ass held intentionally in the air to tease him. I heard him shift to be more comfortable as I found the first box. It was a more recent costume from a different convention. 

I'd had more money as a youth, courtesy of parents who had not yet shuffled off their mortal coil and had an appreciation for sartorial art.

The boxes in my closet were well-labelled, and it didn't take long to find the decade-old costume. I pulled it out with a triumphant shout, straightening and backing into a very solid, very  _ hard _ Thomas behind me.

"Your ass is amazing. I couldn't keep my hands off of you long enough to wait for the costume--we'll just have to put the costume on in a bit." He pulled my pants down without any warning, then pushed me against my closet door. 

I freed one foot as he spun me around and knelt down. "I," he said quietly, looking up at me through too-long lashes, "have not done this in several weeks. I'm a man starving, and you are all that I hunger for."

I shuddered as he picked up my leg and set it on his shoulder. "Flatterer. Silvertongue. You talk too much."

He kissed his way far too slowly from my knee up the inside of my thigh. "I like how you respond to it. I talk exactly as much as I feel is necessary." He buried his nose in my center and inhaled like it was the only source of oxygen left to him. "God, you smell like a heaven I don't deserve." 

I put one hand on his head and the other on the wall above me, trying to balance on one foot as he licked from one end of me to the other, tasting me. He sucked just a bit on my clit, and I huffed at him in the first wave of pleasure.

He hummed at me, pleased with my nonverbal reaction. He buried his tongue in my heat, the vibration of his hum adding something to the liquid fire in my stomach. The hand not holding my leg reached for my ass, and he squeezed the flesh there in time with the thrusts of his tongue. 

"I...Thomas...I...God…" I hit the wall with my head softly a couple times, trying to manage the pleasure consuming me. 

"I am your god now, mortal," he whispered into my thigh, biting the skin carefully. "Worship no other before me."

I took a second to collect my thoughts--Greek mythology never seemed very important until i needed it--then said, "Maybe I should start calling you Narcissus instead of A--ah...Adonis…" 

He went back to assaulting me in that dangerously pleasurable way of his.

Ruined for other men, indeed. No mortal man could possibly manage this. I would live for more than a hundred years, and he'd live basically forever; I'd give every one of my remaining years to him if it meant he did this to me occasionally. Even if it killed me.

As he slid two fingers into me, I wondered mildly how much of my attraction was my nature and how much of it was his. Then it didn't seem to matter much anymore, because even if it did kill me, there had to be worse ways to go than death by Thomas.

He thrust slowly and evenly, sucking on my clit and occasionally sliding his tongue in with his fingers. My pleasure built and built, and soon I was gasping and trying to fuck myself on his hand and face. 

He tightened his grip on the leg he still held over his shoulder, then increased his attentions until I was alternating between moaning and shouting unintelligibly. "Yes, lovely, come on my tongue. Let me feel you shudder over me in ecstasy. I've got you. Let go."

I did. God, but I did. "Th...omas...Thomas!" I collapsed as much as he let me, most of my weight on the wall and his shoulder as he pulled his fingers from me. 

"Now," he said, wiping his mouth with one sleeve, “let's see that costume of yours."


End file.
